


Swan Dive

by Doteruna



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cold, Derek to the Rescue, M/M, Naked Cuddling, Werecats, cuddling for warmth, near-drowning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 16:56:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6248068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doteruna/pseuds/Doteruna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Hale is spooned up behind him on the small bed fast asleep, stubbled face tucked against Stiles’ shoulder blades, arms wrapped possessively around his waist. Now that Stiles can see them, he can feel the arms burning like fire against his frozen skin, as well as Derek’s torso pressed against his back and his legs intertwined with Stiles’ and his crotch shoved—<br/>Well, wasn’t that nice. <br/>But then Derek snuffles and burrows his face deeper and sort of wiggles around, and Stiles can see tear tracks trailing down his cheekbones. He wonders why Derek is crying, and then he actually remembers why he’s in this position in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swan Dive

Stiles awakens with an almost imperceptible gasp, awareness filling his senses in an overwhelming gush of feeling. He’s shivering violently, and he’s colder than he’s ever been in his life. He tries to move his hands, and realizes they’re so numb he can’t uncurl them from the clench they’re in. Then, with a start, he realizes he’s naked, and there’s someone behind him who is also naked.   
After a few seconds of silent freak-out (what if it’s a serial killer? Some weird fae with a skin fetish? A terrifying ice-creature out to get him?) he gains the courage to crane his neck far enough to see over his shoulder.   
Derek Hale is spooned up behind him on the small bed fast asleep, stubbled face tucked against Stiles’ shoulder blades, arms wrapped possessively around his waist. Now that Stiles can see them, he can feel the arms burning like fire against his frozen skin, as well as Derek’s torso pressed against his back and his legs intertwined with Stiles’ and his crotch shoved—  
Well, wasn’t that nice.   
But then Derek snuffles and burrows his face deeper and sort of wiggles around, and Stiles can see tear tracks trailing down his cheekbones. He wonders why Derek is crying, and then he actually remembers why he’s in this position in the first place. 

A few hours before

It was way too cold to be outside. It was too cold to not be inside in font of a fireplace clutching a mug of hot cider and watching Batman, but instead of doing just that, Stiles was outside in the snow at midnight, clothed in just his pajama pants, hoodie, and tennis shoes with sinfully thin socks. His car keys jangled merrily in his pocket as he moved, and he quickly dragged them out and stuffed them into his shoe where they wouldn’t make noise. One hand was wrapped around his baseball bat, and the other had a small handful of mountain ash.   
The reason this was all happening was because just as Stiles leaned forward to hit ‘play’ for Batman, he’d seen the flash of red eyes outside his living room window. When Derek, the only werewolf around with red eyes, hadn’t texted back, Stiles went ahead and assumed it hadn’t been the Sourwolf, so he ran outside after the whatever-it-was and chased the dark figure with his Jeep until he hit the edge of the preserve. Neither Scott nor Derek answered his frantic calls, so he tossed his phone into his car and ran after the glowing eyes in between the trees.   
Now, Stiles knew that was maybe not the best plan, but he’d been working with Deaton on his control over magic and he was pretty confident he could, if all else fails, hold off the creature long enough to run away. That, and when had he ever made the right decision about pursuing bad guys?  
That being said, he ended up on a rocky ledge by the lake, which was frozen over in thin patches and illuminated by a three-quarter moon. Stiles had abandoned his fistful of mountain ash after the first attack by the creature, leaving a bloody mess of three long gashes twisting from his left elbow to the inside of his wrist. He’d managed to smash the creature’s general ribcage area with the bat, but it only deterred what looked like a werecat long enough for Stiles to yell in pain before it was back.   
The werecat darted at him again, and it dug both sets of claws into him, one on his hip and the other on his leg just above his knee. Stiles grimaced but swung the cat around so that it was off balance, then drew the bat back and let it fly with his own strength and a little bit of spark-derived power. The aluminum collided with the cat’s skull with a sickening smack, and it released Stiles with a small shove that pushed his whole body backwards.  
Straight off the ledge into the black water below. 

 

And that was how Stiles ended up being cuddled by a very naked, very warm Derek Hale underneath a scratchy blanket in what looked like the ruined remains of the Hale house. Now that he remembered, he shifted the blanket enough to see the white bandages wrapped around his arm, hips and leg, spots of crimson already staining the cloth. His teeth were still chattering and a gust of air had flowed in when he lifted the blanket, so he pulled it back to his chin and wiggled back into Derek a little more, trying to do it in the least-weird way as he felt Derek push himself forward to Stiles in return.   
Now, he knew werewolves ran hot, but damn, wasn’t that better than a heated blanket? Stiles really should have cuddled with Derek before this. Allison probably does this all the time with Scott, the lucky girl. Derek was a line of solid, beautiful heat on his back and lines crossing over his chest, and Stiles prodded at the thick forearms until they loosened enough for him to roll over and tuck himself into Derek’s sleeping embrace. The man’s nose shoved into his hair for a few seconds before he sniffed deeply and his eyes cracked open.   
“Stiles?” he asked, voice rough with sleep, an oh, Stiles would love to hear that voice again under more favorable circumstances. But right now, not dying of hypothermia took priority.   
“Did you swan dive into a lake to save me?” Stiles asked, grinning a shivering smile. Derek groaned and closed his eyes again, pulling Stiles closer still.   
“Maybe,” he replied gruffly. “Can you move all your fingers and toes? You were in the water for a few minutes before I got to you.” He waited while Stiles tested the aforementioned digits, wincing in pain as he jostled the bandages on his hip.   
“Yeah, I’m good,” Stiles said. “You?”  
“Me?” Derek’s eyes opened again, incredulous. “Why wouldn’t I be?”  
“I don’t know, the water might extinguish the fire of your eternal rage, or whatever,” Stiles shrugged. “What about that stupid cat thing? Did you kill it?”  
“You did, dumbass,” Derek grumbled. “I think it was some werecat from up north. Oregon, maybe, they’re more common up there. Prissy assholes, all of them. You got it in the head with your bat.”  
“Well, either way, you came to my rescue, oh knight in furry armor,” Stiles pretended to swoon, but the effect was ruined due to his reluctance to move more than a centimeter away from Derek’s warmth. “So thanks.”  
“Shut up. Just go back to sleep. You lost a little more blood than I’m comfortable with.” Derek shut his eyes again and hooked his chin over Stiles’ shoulder, breathing deeply. Stiles considered speaking again, but decided to follow Derek’s advice and he let his eyes fall shut, breathing in the scent of Derek’s skin and he quickly drifted off.


End file.
